The Poet at 26
The miracle is that once I was a young
Man. Innocence was colored gold and white
Then. I was living like an angel’s tongue
Before the fall of Lucifer, as bright
As tongues could be in heaven with its gem
Foundations and transparent streets. My mouth
Could open slightly like the breeze blown hem
A member of the choir there to the south
Or east of God’s high throne might wear. My eyes
Could look in two directions and be light
And dark at once while searching for surprise
From either way. I had that sapphire sight.
Whatever I put on would look as dark
As sin when worn against blond skin that stark.